


Plumbing the Depths

by Kizzywiggle



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dry Orgasm, Extremely smutty butt smut, James should know better than to try and get one over on him, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostate Massage, Q always wins, Q is evil, i made myself blush writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzywiggle/pseuds/Kizzywiggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James should know better than to try and surprise Q...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plumbing the Depths

**Author's Note:**

> So, a friend of mine complained about the lack of decent butt stuff fiction about and I wondered if I could write something explicit, butt-centric, but still in My Style.
> 
> Cue much furtive research, a lot of OHMIGOSHNOWAY, and typing hunched over my phone so the kids don't see...

The sound of the shower was clearly audible from the hallway, as was Q’s enthusiastic tenor, singing - of all things - _Three Little Maids From School Are We_.

James grinned. Obviously the Gilbert and Sullivan phase had continued while he’d been on mission, although Q’d moved on from _Pirates of Penzance_. He locked the front door, using his swipe card on the nearby box to activate the home defenses Q considered essential, humming along as he did so. He emptied his pocket detritus on to the hall table, casually stripping. His coat went on the hook, his shoes under the table, and he walked down the hall to the bathroom with his tie, his cashmere sweater and his shirt drifting to the floor. He reached the bathroom as his trousers slithered to the ground, belt buckle thumping softly on the carpet. James leaned down, slipping his socks off, straightening to open the bathroom door.

Q was singing at the top of his lungs now, filling the steamy room with his voice.

_Three little maids who, all unwary/ Come from a ladies' seminary/ Freed from its genius tutelary/ Three little maids from school_

\- James joined in on the last line in a cracked, gritty baritone: _Three little maids from school_!

With a shriek, Q dropped the soap, spun about, and slipped. James tore the door open, reaching in to help him up, but Q just glared up at him through a curtain of thick, wet hair and steam. Water streamed off his fringe and down his face, blurring his features, but James clearly saw the scowl Q directed at him.

“You're home, then?” he grumbled.

“Yes,” James replied, redundantly. He held out his hand. Q took it and allowed himself to be pulled upright, and into James's arms. They kissed, parting with a giggle when the shower door bumped closed behind them. James reached for Q again, but the smaller man narrowed his eyes and held up a hand.

“What. Is. _That_?” Q’s voice was quietly dangerous as he pointed to the small Spongebob Squarepants tattoo on James's left pectoral. James looked away, flushing.

“It's a tattoo, Q?”

“Did you get _my_ permission to put a tattoo on _my_ chest, pet?” Q asked, still in that silky-calm tone.

“I couldn't, Q, I was on mission and it was necessary to get in with the target!” James hated the whinge in his voice as he defended himself to his furious spouse. “I couldn't stop in the middle of an ouzo-fuelled night and say, hang on while I phone my husband, now, could I?”

Q handed James the body wash, shoving his own hair out of his eyes. “Get washed, get out, get dry, get to the bedroom. You've got five minutes.” He opened the door, grabbing a towel and his glasses before leaving the room. The door closed with a near-silent click and James winced before starting to wash. This wasn't the homecoming he'd imagined just minutes ago. Sulkily he followed instructions and presented himself in the bedroom, where Q was sat on the bed towelling his thick mop of hair. He looked sternly at James.

“You have a choice,” he said. “Pain, and a guaranteed mind-blowing orgasm after, or pleasure and no orgasm unless I think you've earned it.” His gaze was solemn.

James thought quickly. “Pleasure, please,” 

Q stood. His little, smug smile made James - the old James - want to shove him up against a door and fuck him silly, but the James who was Q’s husband and sub stood quietly and waited to be led. Q positioned James with his back against the wall, then took James's hands, shoving them above his head, leaning in for a hard, possessive kiss. “This isn't proper play, we don't need a safeword; you say stop and I stop dead, then we go to sleep. Ok?”

James nodded, arousal an electric current charging his senses. Q kissed him again, gentler, nipping at his lip, licking and suckling until James groaned and pushed his head forward, seeking more. Q stood back and let cool air fill the space between them. It washed over James's still-damp skin and he gasped. “Eyes shut,” Q ordered, “Leave your hands there.” He left James looking like the naked victim of a hold-up to rummage in the bedside drawer, returning to slide a blindfold over James's head.

There was a click, a squirting noise, and the sensation of something slick on James's still-soft cock. Q’s hand wrapped around him and gave one slow pump before releasing him. The lube tingled as air washed over James before being transforming into gradual warming sensation. This was followed by James's balls being lifted while a soft leather strap was slid underneath then clipped snugly around his cock and balls. “Keep your hands up,” Q reminded him, his voice low, before his hot mouth slid over the tip of James's cock, sucking, licking, so-carefully scraping at it until he hardened insistently. James swore loudly and pushed forward, but Q slapped at his thigh until he stilled. The slapping hand slid across to thumb the base of James's erection firmly and Q licked up his length, his cool saliva an agonising counterpoint to the warmth of the lube.

Q continued to suck and lick at James until he was hot, heavy, and near painful; the cock ring squeezed him firmly, keeping his arousal present but not overwhelming. When Q scraped his nails over James's tight balls with barely-there pressure James let out a strangled scream and thrust forward. “Q-!” With a last devastating suck, Q stood slowly.

“Your arms are still up, good boy,” he whispered, kissing up James's torso. He paid extensive attention to the deep valleys of James's v-cut, licked over his abdomen, before sucking and biting at his nipples. He sucked to the point of near-pain, biting hard and licking the sting away. James cried out. He loved it when Q played with his nipples, although Q was being very careful on the left side where James's new tattoo was. Leaving James's nipples, Q used his tonguetip to draw wet, tickly designs all over James's pectoral muscles until James was writhing against the wall and whimpering. The cock ring held him balanced on the edge but didn't give him enough sensation to go over; this, coupled with the hot-and-cold torment of the air trying to cool the lube and the nipple play he felt stretched and tormented like Munch’s _The Scream_ , just waiting for enough impetus to let go…

“Kneel,” Q ordered. James dropped his arms and sank to the floor. “Open,” Q’s cock was at his lips, and he opened gladly, moaning as Q shoved his cock right to the back of James's mouth and held it at his throat. “Suck,”

James sucked hard, knowing Q preferred it that way. He curved his tongue to stroke up the underside of Q’s cock as he pulled up, before licking around the tip and swallowing him down again. He pushed all the way to the bottom, his nose scraping along Q’s pelvis, and took the tip of Q’s cock into his throat before swallowing. Q swore and grabbed James's hair, the sting of it making James groan around Q's girth. Q held James's head steady as he pumped in and out of his mouth, harder and harder. “Fingers!” he ordered, and James reached to fondle at Q's balls before sliding one hand between Q’s legs to press, hard, in his perinaeum.

Q groaned and fucked James's mouth hard and fast, saliva getting everywhere. His legs tensed, his cock getting harder and hotter as he warned, “I'm coming!” before shooting his load into James's waiting mouth. James took it and waited until Q pulled out to swallow, smiling blindly as Q pulled him to his feet. 

By now the combination of cock ring, Q’s teasing and getting to suck Q off had James's erection at record dimensions. Q dragged the flat of a nail along James's length just to hear him hiss. “Do you think you've earned your orgasm, James?” he asked, nipping at the older man's neck and sucking hard at the skin there. “Have you been good enough?”

“If you say I have,” James replied, although he wanted to scream _YES_. He was so turned on his hips were humping at the air in search of pretty much _anything_ to get him there. Oh, the pleasure/pain of hanging on the edge was delicious, but he _needed_ to come so badly.

Q led him to the bed. “Hands,”

James leaned forward, putting his hands on the cool sheets, still damp from where Q had been sitting. He pressed his forehead to the bed, his arse in the air, vulnerable, exposed. Q used his foot to slide James's feet apart. The weight of his balls hanging, so full and heavy, the feeling of gravity dragging at his agonised cock made James gasp, and Q laughed. “Not long now,” he said. There was a click, and something cool trickled between James's buttocks, followed by Q’s elegant, deft fingers. The lube was massaged around his arsehole before Q slid a finger in slowly. James cried out and pushed back on the pressure just to feel the _pop_ as the muscle breached. He gasped. “Well done,” said Q, pressing a kiss to his spine. “Another?” James burbled his agreement, fighting to stay still. Q pumped his hand gently a couple of times then added another finger, twisting slowly as he penetrated James to the knuckles. Curving his fingers into a hook, he dragged them over the bump of James's prostate, at the same time using the thumb of his other hand to press on James's perinaeum. James sobbed and begged and fought not to move as Q rubbed and stroked and bit at James's shoulders, whispering dirty words of praise and encouragement. Suddenly he pushed in with his thumb and down with his fingers and everything inside James clenched and throbbed until he couldn't breathe, couldn't think and he _screamed_ as his vision behind the blindfold whited out and he collapsed onto the bed, cock twitching with a dry orgasm as Q's fingers slipped out of him.

When he gained a measure of sense again, Q had manhandled him to lie flat on the bed and his cock was free of the ring. He was sprawled inelegantly, gasping, Q laid beside him with his head propped up on a fist. “What _was_ that?” James asked breathlessly.

“Prostate orgasm,” replied Q smugly. He leaned over and kissed James softly. “You did so well,” he praised, and James was shocked to feel a blush spread across his cheeks. He looked along his body to where his cock stood, bobbing with his pulse. Q followed his gaze. “Ah, yes,” he smiled. “That can be an entirely desirable side effect of a dry orgasm: you're still 'good to go’!” He swung a leg over James and perched delicately on his hips, kissing him once more.

“Uh, Q…?” James asked.

“Yes, James?”

“You know my tattoo?”

“Yes…?”

“It's, uh...it's fake…”

Q lifted his head up and fixed James with a _look_. “I know,” he said.

James goggled. “You know?!”

“Moneypenny can't keep a non-vital secret for toffee, James, you should know that.” He ducked down again and slid down James's body. “I've been planning this since she told me, silly.” He licked James's belly button delicately. “You know how I _love_ my research!”

James meant to be annoyed, truly he did, but as Q proceeded to play James's body like a violin while getting himself hard again, James couldn't be bothered to protest. And when Q slid his rock-hard cock into James's happily sore arsehole before fucking him six ways to Sunday, James was nothing but _glad_.


End file.
